


Good Riddance

by Cave_of_the_mounds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Puns & Word Play, Tattoo Artist Dean, Tattooed Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 05:41:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12248115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cave_of_the_mounds/pseuds/Cave_of_the_mounds
Summary: Written for @luci-in-trenchcoats AU & Things Challenge. I selected Sam Winchester and Coffee Shop AU. Mixed it up with tattooed Sam and Tattoo Artist Dean. Just a fluffy, sassy, cute fic of Sam and the Reader flirting and enjoying coffee.Also posted to my tumblr @butiaintgonnaloveemFeedback and constructive criticism always welcomed!





	Good Riddance

Walking into the coffee shop, you take a deep breath when the scent of freshly roasted coffee hits you. A quick glance behind the counter confirms that he’s there, and your mouths curves against your best efforts into a restrained smile.

“Good morning, Sam,” your voice turns into a shy drawl.

“Morning!” he calls from behind the espresso machine. “I’ve got a good one for you today.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup,” he flashes you a teasing smirk before going back to watching his work. His hair hangs loose around his jaw, the ends curling just a bit. Your eyes are drawn, as always, to the vivid designs that creep up his shirtsleeves and out of his low collar.

The way your morning routine goes, you’re able to miss the daily rush of people and get to enjoy the few minutes of interaction with the people at the shop. All of them friendly and incredibly enthusiastic about coffee, but Sam is your particular favorite.

You’re drawn from your ogling when you notice him reach over for a lid for your drink, and the muscles surrounding your lips strain while you try to fight your smile as you wait for him to hand it over.

“I’m telling you, this is the one,” he says.

“We’ll see. You’re lucky I love coffee because you’ve said that before.” You grab the drink, holding eye contact with him for an extra few seconds before you straighten your shoulders to leave. “Thanks, Sam.”

His grin grows and you turn away, walking out the door before you lift the cup to eye level, reading the side ‘DANGER - It’s my middle name.’

Your nose crinkles as you snort a shoulder-curving laugh. You turn with a big toothy smile back to the window, looking at Sam through the glass. Closing your mouth, without successfully hiding your smile you shake your head ‘No’ while he puts his hands up in a shrug before moving one of them in a quick wave. Your hand bobs a bit as you wave back, still chuckling.

Your smile softens, but doesn’t quite disappear by the time you make it to work yourself, your coworker shakes her head as you settle in.

“You should stop flirting with him and get him on a date.”

“What?”

“Coffee man.”

“Sam? What? No. It-it’s just fun.” You squint and shrug her off.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, rolling her eyes, “So, what did he come up with today?”

Again, the self-satisfied smile appears while you flush with embarrassment, words tripping out of your mouth, “Uhm, uh ‘Danger’.”

“Danger?” You hold up the paper cup to allow her to read it. She pouts and nods, “Cute.”

“Yeah, way better than ‘bandana’ and what was the other one?” You ask, snapping your fingers together to pull up the memory.

“Oh, remember ‘antidandruff’?”

“Ugh. Yeah,” you chuckle, “He’s trying, though.”

* * *

Pulling open the door, you suck in the coffee scent, eyes drifting to the counter, but not quite making it before someone calls your name. Following the voice, you find Sam, huddled at one of the cafe tables with another guy that you don’t recognize and a few cups of coffee spread out on the table between them. He beckons you over once you acknowledge him.

“Well, this is weird. You off today?” You stop at the edge of the table, lingering next to the chair, uncertain whether or not to sit.

“Yeah, I’ve got some stuff to do today with my brother,” he gestures to the guy next to him.

He lifts his cup as a hello. “I’m Dean, the older and  _better_  brother.” You stand there and nod, looking him over - just as tattooed as Sam, but a little more gruffness to him.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam kicks him under the table, “I got your drink for you already.” He picks up one of the cups, holding it out for you to grab it. Again, it takes you an extra few seconds to catch up with him.

“Oh, uhm thanks.”

“My pleasure, so, danger doesn’t work for you?”

Finally, your face cracks into a smile, “Not so much.”

“Hmmm, okay,” he drops his gaze, giving you a quick one-over, “Are you an Elton John fan?”

You pinch your lips tight, as a very graceful snort escapes while you try not to spit your drink out at him. “What?!”

“Tiny Dancer?” Even with the healthy layer of scruff, his dimples pop, making you itch to squeeze him because he’s too much in a single bundle.

“Wow, that’s just terrible-”

“Ohhh,” Dean interrupts, “Is this her?”

Sam’s eyes narrow in a glare, “Shut up, Dean.”

You turn and glance between them, waiting for some kind of scuffle

“Well, that sounds like a yes. I don’t think she likes Tiny Dancer. Oh! How about Tony Danza?” Dean teases, lines forming by his eyes as he smirks.

You shake your head at them, “I never should have told you, and now your brother’s in on it too? So much no, and before you try it, I’ll also go ahead and reject Dance Like Nobody’s Watching.”

“You can dance for me like nobody’s watching,” Dean mutters. Your face opens in surprise at his words. Again, Sam sends a tight-lipped glare his way along with another kick under the table. “Okay, jeez Sammy, lighten up. By the way, whenever you’re ready to take care of it, let Sam know and I’ll do it myself.”

“Really?” you question, hopefully.

“O’course, I’m the best damn artist in the state, can’t have my brother’s girl- ooof -” he hunches over slightly, jaw clenching as he swallows the pain. A tight, and forced, smile graces his face, “I mean, any friend of Sam’s is a friend of mine.”

“Well, thanks.” You curl your lips in, biting them as you imagine how the sentence might have finished.

“Yeah, this is all Dean’s work,” Sam flexes his arms, twisting them to show off a bit. “Today, he’s finishing a portrait for me.”

“Portrait of who?” you ask, taking a sip of your drink.

“Jessie,” Dean answers, “Sam has this gorgeous picture of her, with the sun making her hair this beautiful gold color I’m excited to work on - “

“Wow, really? Sounds really…beautiful,” the lump that quickly formed in your throat makes it hard to speak, but you don’t want to hear anything else about this Jessie. “Sorry. Love the coffee, but I gotta run, have a good one guys.”

Sam opens his mouth to respond, but you dart out the door, not looking back or hearing whether or not they’ve said goodbye.

Tears don’t quite form, but the hurt is evident in your expression when you get to work.

“What happened?” your coworker asks, immediately ignoring her task.

“Nothing,” you sniffle, “It’s stupid.”

“Sam? Did he say something?” She holds your biceps, keeping you from turning away.

You groan, “Aughh, I know I’m not really one to talk, but I found out he’s getting a portrait done. Her name’s Jessie and she’s beautiful, and has gorgeous golden hair, and I just had to leave because that - sucks,” you roll your eyes as you finish, annoyed by your own jealousy.

You looks defeated for you, “I’m sorry, hun.” Her hands rub up and down your arms to soothe you.

“It’s okay, it was just a crush anyway.”

* * *

“Morning, Sam,” you politely smile, controlling yourself from letting your eyes roam as he wears the hell out of that red and black plaid shirt.

“Hey! Got a question for you,” he smiles as he slowly pushes your drink across the counter. You tilt your head to prompt him. “What’s your sign?”

Your hand smacks your cheek then drags down your face in second-hand embarrassment for him, “Oh no, Sam, really?”

“Come on, it’s a good one today.” He juts his chin at your cup. You lift it to see he’s drawn a picture of a crab with the word ‘DECAPODAN’ next to it. “Could work if you fall under the Cancer sign.”

“First. No. Second, I’m not even sure that’s a real word, but I appreciate the effort. See you later.” You smile politely again, not missing the confusion that flashes across his face.

“Sure, see ya,” he quietly calls after you.

He continues to try. Day after day goes by with the usual pleasantries and more and more words on your cups, though it doesn’t bring the same joy as before.

* * *

“Good morning!” Sam sing-songs as soon as you walk into the shop.

“Hey,” you breathe out softly.

“What’s wrong?” His forehead lines with wrinkles as he looks you over.

“Nothing, just the usual today, please?”

He passes it across the counter, ready for you before you’d gotten there, “I really think today’s the day. It’s a good one.” He timidly smiles and nods at the cup as you grab it.

“Don’t waste your time, I’ll figure out something else.” You keep focused on the floor, noting the scuff marks on the toes of your shoes.

“What? Why?” he asks, voice going high.

“Just…cause. This is a bit inappropriate and you don’t need to worry about it. It’s stupid.” You sneak a glance, catching him swallowing nervously before shifting back to a small smile.

“But, I still have so many more to try. There’s, uh, there’s danish, and sedan, and - and fandango, and abundant -”

“It’s okay, really. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do, and other-other people to worry about.” You start to march out the door, stopping when you hear the crash behind you. Turning back, you find Sam standing next to the broken napkin dispenser and a mess of cups rolling around on the floor, chest a little huffy from jumping across the counter. “Shit, Sam, you okay?”

“Yeah - I mean, no, but what’s wrong? I’m sorry if I said something -” His hands pull through his hair with obvious frustration.

“It’s okay, Sam. I brought it on myself. I’d make fun of me, too, but it’s not fun for me anymore.”

“Why? What did I say?” He moves to reach for you, but you jerk away, flinging coffee from your cup and onto your shirt and the floor. The flash of burning pain sends you over the edge, ripping all politeness from your tone.

“It’s because of Jessie, okay? Because I’m hurt and mad you never mentioned her. And you know what?” you start to hiss through clenched teeth, “It’s a little hypocritical of you to tease me, when you go and get some girl’s picture tattooed on you!”

His face goes long as his jaw drops, lips forming a perfect ‘o’ for a few seconds until the corners start to twitch. His teeth appear as his smile forms, fits of laughter escaping from him as the stiffness leaves his shoulders.

“You’re a jerk,” you spit at him, twirling away.

“No! No, hang on!” He snags your arm, pulling more coffee from the lip of your cup which thankfully misses you this time. You focus on the droplets on the floor, watching the milky bubbles pop while you avoid eye contact with Sam. “I was  _never_  making fun of you and I’m  _not_  a hypocrite.”

He bends to roll up a pant leg, slowly revealing a fresh tattoo on his calf. ‘Jessie’ in a lovely font, her golden hair somehow shining on his skin, her head tilted in a playfully curious expression, her floppy ears perked up, and tongue slightly hanging from her snout.

If anger hadn’t been boiling in your body, you might have reacted better, but tears spring to your eyes as you half cry, and cough out a laugh. “Jessie’s a fucking dog?”

“Ye-heah,” Sam lightly chuckles. “She was the best dog I ever had,” he lets the fabric fall back, standing tall again. “I was never making fun of you, I was trying to have fun  _with you_  and was hoping to ask you out at some point.” He tucks his hands in his pockets, shoulders lifting in a shrug as he stands there, waiting for you to respond.

* * *

Two months later, Sam walks with you hand-in-hand into the tattoo parlor.

“Well well well,” Dean says as he stands, wiping his hands on his thighs. “Today’s the day?”

“Yeah, you came up with the perfect design, Dean, thank you.”

He tries to play it off cocky, but you see the way he almost hides his face in his shoulder that he’s flattered, “No problem, darlin’. Now, let’s get you all set and you can tell me how you ended up with that in the first place.”

“Not much to tell,” you say, pulling off your overshirt and turning your back to Dean so he can see it. “I was young, had a few drinks, and thought I was in love.”

He takes a finger, pulling down the back of your tank and the band of your bra, “Wow. That’s it? It really just says ‘DAN’ right in the middle of your back? You didn’t even give him a ‘forever’ to go with it.” He laughs from deep in his chest.

“Last chance for Tony Danza. Dean would be happy to do it,” Sam whispers in your ear.

“Still better than decapodan.” You smile, turning and nuzzling against him. “You smell like coffee.”

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” you shake your head before you sigh, “You know I love coffee.”


End file.
